1. |
Not Even One
08:38
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The merchants in the streets
Are pawning their own skin
And with every parcel peeled
The parasites move in
And make a home
And burrow deep
And eat their fill
Lest they be weak
And in the palace halls
Will the princes make their claims
For millennia to come
Both in grandeur and in vain
Their mouths are budding flowers
Over their own graves
Yet when they fail
We'll do the same
And in the endless marketplace
Are the harlots keeping pace
While now thrust into streets
They'll be one day paid to grace
Looming signs above
Concrete roads
The merchant's craft is patrons in droves
In the shape of love
But a lack thereof
Received in full:
The mansions they dreamed of
And yet Earth wasn't created to be vacant
Hidden in plain view you'll see pure glory
But in my flimsy heart live the merchant, harlot, prince
Our identical impulse serves as ample evidence
Of the great paradox, that massive wall:
Evil in all but hope in all
So as for us, what shall we say?
Let us rejoice, for there is no "they"
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2. |
Wretched Man
11:15
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The beauty in the smile of an earnest, kindred soul's heart pouring ever-outward consumes in me my woes: those pitiful calls for substance
and their greed's pursuits like wolves, never ceasing to devour every breath of good in me.
Knowing this, how do I harbor this pathetic will to end that very same beauty - this will, for self, defend?
O what a wretched man I am
Who can save me from this body of death?
O I long for the sweetest peace
That blissful leaving of this prison of flesh
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3. |
Motion Mask
05:28
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In winter's chilling hold
We recall sweet days of old
The warmth of light on skin
Grass waving in the wind
The sound of a nearby creak:
Our lifeblood's timeless creep
Awakens dreams inside the meek
Of understanding that we still seek
O the flowing to and fro
Motion masks the drifting soul
Unable to find anything that can spark a fire us
We drift 'til the end of time
And yet so do I get lost as pulled downstream
Swept with all to sea as the ocean calls to me
So loud and boisterously I can't hear dear reality
So sweet and low
The very whisper of God
O the flowing to and fro
Motion masks the drifting soul
Unable to find anything that can spark a fire us
By hand or will or word
We dream of the end of time
Unable to find anything that can spark a fire us
Utterly drenched in our own wills
In hand and will and word we dream
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4. |
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In fellowship, friend, lift your voice
But silence your hurried song
Sing rather for new wisdom
And the will to see it through
In hardship, does not come passion?
And in work, does not come strength?
Then how long can we rest our hands
And yet slave for liberty?
O the worthlessness of thought
And hollow philosophy
That lacks the breadth of brotherhood
And labor formed of love
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5. |
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When you speak my conscience awakes
A movement divine
Bearing witness to the heart of Man
That ceaseless form
The ever-hungry throat
Steadfast as a mighty oak
Unchanged as a pine
And grounded as a root in soil
Yet gentle as a breeze
And outstretched as the sea
Naught but wisdom from your lips
Convicting my flaws
Such is the duty of those
Who forego us all
Moving mountains as we crawl
Sever our pride
And all earthly rights
If we cannot be beacons of light
Dispelling all doubt
With sheer hope and trust
That we will not halt
At the sight of mere temptation
Or define away right and wrong
Sever our pride
And all earthly rights
If we cannot be beacons of light
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Hill and Vale Ames, Iowa
As hills and valleys show dynamics in nature, so are the sincere existentialist themes of Hill + Vale delivered thru music best summed up by Tolkien: “one was…wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other…essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice, but…taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern.” ... more
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